The Phantom Menace (rewritten, again)
by One-handed
Summary: Turmoil has engulfed the Galactic Republic. Crime Lords and unscrupulous politicians are turning the Outer Rim into an anarchy. The Senate, bereft of funds, struggles raise taxes and to curtail the problem, but is beset by greed and self-interest. One Corporation, the Trade Federation, has a dastardly plot to silence the allegations of abuse coming from Naboo . . .
1. Prologue

STAR WARS  
THE PHANTOM MENACE  
A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy Far, Far, Away . . .

Turmoil has engulfed the GALACTIC REPUBLIC. Crime Lords and unscrupulous politicians are turning the Outer Rim into an anarchy.  
The SENATE, bereft of funds, struggles to raise taxes and to curtail the problems, but is beset by greed and self-interest.  
One unscrupulous Corporation, the TRADE FEDERATION, has a dastardly plan to silence the allegations of abuse coming from Naboo.


	2. The Invasion of Naboo

**T** he one in which the authoress, deciding that the Prequels consisted of stellar concepts and uncivilised execution, decides to write a full-on AU of the GFFA

 **Chapter 1. The Occupation of Naboo**

In the ancient city of Eirtaévid, two Jedi exited the beautiful, rambling stone Basilia where they had been debriefed on their endeavours with the Naboo Youth Programme, and headed through the streets to the transport station. Transports ran four times every day; two to Theed, one to Arnval, and one to Tattan, where Naboo's only spaceport was located. It was the transit to Tattan that they boarded.

"You know, Master," remarked the younger of the two Jedi in a Coruscanti accent that sounded suspiciously similar to Perth talk, "Ever since we came to Naboo, I've been sensing . . . something. Something that . . . well, whatever it is, it's definitely something big. And it's going to change a lot of things, both for us and for others."

"You think too much of the future, Apprentice mine," said the elder of the two Jedi. He was a tall, powerfully-built man, with a head of greying hair pulled back from a wide, broad-planed face.

"I thought," said the younger man, climbing onto the transport and helping his master up, "That we were meant to focus on the future."

"But not at the expense of the present," said the older man. "Remember, always follow the Light, regardless of all else." He sat down in one of the tall circular booths provided. "For in the Light, all is made clear."

The young man sat beside his master and looked pensive for a moment. "Master," he said, "I know that you're sympathetic towards the Independents, but . . . I don't believe we've ever talked about why."

They felt the transport take off from beneath them. The elder Jedi sighed. "We are all Jedi, all of us," he said. "They are as correct as we, from a certain point of view."

"How so, Master? I've heard it said that many of the Independents accept the Dark Side."

"Acknowledge it, not accept it. As indeed, do we."

"How is it the same, Master? We acknowledge its existence, but shun it completely, whilst they . . . well, they allow it, in some measure, do they not?"

"They have a rather different conception. Our order believe in rules and regulations to keep to the Light; and not without reason. The Independents have rules as guidelines, not as dogma, for they follow the Light itself, without regard to their own rules or personal concepts. Or at least, they do so in theory."

"There are a great many risks in that approach, Master."

"There is risk in everything, Apprentice."

"You're going to tell me, Master," said the young man with a grin, "That I have to assess whether or not the risk is worth taking."

"You know me very well."

They sat in silence for a moment. The young man had a mature, masculine face and light brown hair slightly inclined to red. It was cropped short on the sides and back; the hair on top was brushed forward in the style of all Jedi Apprentices. He was twenty-four years old, in the eighth year of his apprenticeship, and was expecting to be Knighted in perhaps three or four years time, and his name was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"Master, I do have another concern," he said.

"Oh?"

"I know you've been in contact with Count Dooku," said Obi-Wan. "And . . . my concern may be entirely unfounded, but I know he moved to the Independents some time before he left the Order. I . . . well, this is entirely unworthy of a Jedi, but I'm worried of what the Council might think of you."

"Worry not what the Council thinks of me. It is my concern, and not yours."

"I'm worried that they might conflate your personal affection for him into ideological sympathies."

"It's the mistake of many to conflate personal loyalty with unhealthy attachment."

"And if you _are_ attached?"

"Then in my case, the attachment would best be closed. For others, perhaps, it should be accommodated for."

And so here begins the tale that ignited the stars.

—-

Naboo was a planet of outstanding natural beauty. Its surface was 89% water; and its landmasses consisted of small islands in the perfect blue and two continents full of mountains and high plateaus that rode high above the clouds.

It was, by all accounts, cut off from most of the Galaxy. It had only a very small population; 7 million humans, perhaps, and its contribution to the Galactic economy was less than minuscule. It exported Shasza fruit and products thereof; art; ecological engines and technology, stone, timber, and water, and that was all.

Industry on Naboo was tiny. Most people lived in mountain villages or coastal settlements, largely self-sufficient, but with good enough technology to avoid desperate poverty. There were quarrymen and loggers; engineers and craftsmen; Shasza plantations and processors, but none of it was done by factory, and market prices on Naboo itself were fixed by settlement - locally - and kept that way for a period of six years.

There were only six human settlements that held more than one million people; Theed, the capital; Arnval; Tattan, where the spaceport was located; Keren; Tajahanai; and Ertaévid, the planet's original capital.

And there were the Jungians. But the humans of Naboo did not generally mention the Jungians, except for when they did.

In other words, the planet was Sleepiness and Idyllicism personified.

Which was why the Royal Council had been so surprised, seven years previously, to receive a proposal from the Trade Federation. In an effort to increase exports, the Federation had, in a deal brokered by Hego Damask the Muun and Naboo's Galactic Senator, offered to enter into partnership with the government to reform and improve Naboo infrastructure, in turn for a share of the export profits.

It was this deal which was giving King Stantabes a Very Big Headache, at the very time he didn't want one.

Naboo was ruled by what they called the Three-Headed Cogency. There was the Mother Queen, serving for up to two terms of seven years, representing wisdom, tradition, and experience. There was the Commonman King - Stantabes - to represent the will and interest of the people, serving for up to three five-year-long terms. And then there was the Daughter Queen, a young girl who served from the age of thirteen to seventeen, to represent innocence, vitality, and the future. All three monarchs were elected.

Right now, the Mother Queen was in badly failing health and was going into hospital. More specifically, she was going to a specialist in Keren for an operation and a long convalescence, which was the reason that Stantabes really didn't need a headache.

The headache itself was the Trade Federation. They were, technically, running the Naboo infrastructure, and he couldn't deny it had brought a lot of jobs, benefits, and conveniences to his planet. But there were more and more reports of abuses of both practical and official power by Federation officials. The problem was compounded by the Federation being largely responsible for public security, and since continued Jedi presence had ceased just over one hundred years ago, and none of the Jedi sects they had contacted since had the resources for a long-term commitment such as that.

And as if that wasn't enough, the Trade Federation - right up to its Viceroy - was clamouring for centralised industry of machines, droid factories, factories for Shasta fruit, factories to mass-produce art, grand plantations, intensive quarrying, sea drilling . . .

It would turn the people of Naboo into downtrodden wage slaves. Stantabes, unlike most Naboo, had travelled. He hadn't always liked what he'd seen.

But not even he could have guessed what was coming next.

"The Trade Federation are putting in an important call right now, Your Majesty," one of his aides told him. "They ask that you and both Queens be present."

"They'll have to do without Verana," said Stantabes, donning his ceremonial _del_. His aide helped him tighten up the sash, handed him his staff of office, and they headed to the Hall of the Ministry to receive the call.

Queen Amidala was already seated and dressed in her rich ceremonial robe, her face painted - or maybe it was one of her handmaidens. The girls were, at any rate, standing unobtrusively in the background. It would have been nice if someone had been able to impersonate Queen Verana too, but it was a bit difficult to impersonate a woman so immensely fat and hover-chair bound. They'd have to admit that she was in hospital, in no condition to be patched through on calls, and do without her.

At the communications table, the figure of a Neimoidan was patched in. Stantabes was surprised to see that it was Viceroy Gunray himself, and no lower-ranking ambassador or representative.

"Your Majesties. It is a pleasure to see you; but should there not be a third?"

"My royal mother," said Amidala, "Is currently indisposed. My royal brother and I greet you in her stead."

"Ah," said Gunray, bowing slightly, "I see. My hopes that she will be recovered shortly." He turned to someone outside of the pickup zone.

"Bring up the image of the spaceport," he said.

"Viceroy," said Stantabes, "If you would kindly explain your reasons for this call?"

"All in good time, Your Majesty," said Gunray. The view above the Com Table shifted to a 3-D satellite image of Tattan Spaceport; Stantabes recognised the tall Traffic Control and Communication Spires, rising high above the other buildings.

"Your Majesties," the voice of Gunray came over the image, "Until now, we have been asking for increased control of the Naboo Infrastructure and permission for extensive rebuilding and full control of Naboo Security, and rationalisation of industry of production. We have asked for factories to be built in which Shasza fruit can be grown and processed at a higher rate, we have asked for more commercial crafts to be produced, and we have asked for you to drop your accusations of abuses against us. Since you have not granted these, we ask for all of these concessions now, as well as concessions of land and airspace. Commander, commence targeting."

There was a heartbeat's pause, and then suddenly bombs and torpedoes began raining down on Tattan Spaceport. The Spires were the first to go, but the soundless explosions and falling debris were clear. It looked as though the city was blowing up and imploding in on itself. Warships came into view, and began shooting torpedoes and laser bolts into the city, into the streets.

Stantabes slammed his hands down on the Com Table to stop himself from collapsing; Amidala's stoic mouth hung open in shock. Sio Bibble, Minister of Public Services, clamped his hands to his mouth; Tiré Oropine, Minister of Environment, screamed aloud and fell to the floor.

"If you do not grant an unconditional surrender of full sovereignty to the Trade Federation in the space of six hours," said Gunray, flicking back to his image, "Then Theed and Eirtaévid will suffer the same fate."

He said that as though he was explaining to someone that they had to sign an extra form. Nothing in his pose or voice gave away that he was even slightly disturbed by the huge loss of life that he had just ordered.

"All of your Communication Amplifier towers have been shot down," he continued, "And your interstellar communications jammed. Your surrender will be transmitted via the Federation Complex near Theed."

The image shut down. There was complete silence in the Hall of Ministry, except for Oropine's quiet sobbing.

"Bring a communications technician here," said Stantabes sharply. Everybody jumped, but one of Amidala's handmaidens ran off to fetch one.

"He may have cut off our links to the Galaxy, and perhaps even in Naboo," said Stantabes. Internal communications was a vital part of Infrastructure after all.

"But he cannot cut off our spirit, so long as we disallow him to do so. Ministers Bibble and Oman, take the Palace's team of medics and head to Tattan with all speed to assist with relief efforts there. Use my ship to get there. When the technician arrives, I shall attempt to get an independent communications network up and running; in the meantime, we should evacuate Theed. Minister Agrila, ensure that as soon as contact can be made, by whatever means, that Eirtaévid is evacuated, and then proceed to all other metropolises and cities."

There was a number of frantic 'Yes, Your Majesties' as people scurried off to do his bidding. Stantabes turned to Amidala.

"Royal sister," he said, using the formal message of address, "What say you to their demands?"

"If we deny them," she said, "They will not stop until we accept them. And when we accept them, the whole planet will be enslaved to the Trade Federation's whims and interests. They will build factories and shepherd men and women into them to be no more than cogs in a machine. They will reproduce our sacred arts and auction them off to the highest bidder, make another copy, and do the same. They will build in our mountains and by our lakes, and care not for the damage they do our systems and our planet."

The Daughter Queen was supposed to represent innocence, Stantabes thought, but then, fourteen-year-old Amidala was wise beyond her years.

"I think it wise," he said, "To ask for help. We cannot hope to fight the Trade Federation ourselves."

"What would you propose, royal brother?"

"I would propose," said Stantabes, "That you be the one to fetch help. You have less experience of administration, royal sister, but you could make us a valuable ambassador in these troubled times. Meanwhile, our royal mother and I would stay and bring our system through this dark time."

"Should we not sue for peace, royal brother?" asked Amidala.

"We should," he said, with a smile, "But asking for peace is not the same as surrender, sister mine. Peace is when both sides win; in a surrender, only one side can do so."

"Would not the Senate see our surrender as a move under duress, and therefore illegitimate, and the occupation of our planet with it?" she asked.

"Perhaps in a perfect galaxy, but not in ours. The Senate is stretched over the galaxy, sister mine, and would not help us if we let the Trade Federation in. To surrender, in their eyes, would be to legitimise, and they will not send help if the occupation is seen as such. So no, we will not surrender. Our royal mother and I will resist, and you, royal sister, will bring help from above. If you are not objectionable?"

Queen Amidala looked pensive.

"Have we no other options?" she asked at last.

"We could surrender. But then all would be on the Trade Federation's terms. Or we could resist alone, but in that case we would be brutalised indeed, and likely not successful. We could ask the Jedi for help, and I believe that they would be less corrupt than the Senate. Or we could ask the Gungans, but I do not think they would be likely to help us."

"We shall go to the Jedi, then," said Amidala. She turned to Stantabes with a little curiosity showing through her mask.

"What makes you think the Senate so corrupt? Or if it is, that Chancellor Valorum would not be able to help? He is of this planet."

"I have served in that Senate, royal sister, and I was never so happy as the day I gave up office there."

Amidala turned her gaze ahead, sad and stoic.

"It is settled, then," she said. "We will not surrender immediately, and resist as long as we can, but we may acquit for expediency's sake. Meantime, I shall find us an ally in the Jedi, and also enlist the help of our Senator in the Senate for good measure."


	3. The Droids of Tattan Spaceport

**Chapter 2. The Droids of Tattan Spaceport**

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn were disembarking from their transport and crossing Tattan Spaceport when there was the sound of whistling in the air, and suddenly bombs and tornadoes were streaking through the sky.

"Take cover!" yelled Qui-Gon, and they rushed into a doorway as the city began to crumble around them - and then back out again as the building began to collapse.

"No!" cried Qui-Gon, and started lifting the rubble away with telekinesis.

"Master!" shouted Obi-Wan, "We're going to have to evacuate the city!"

There was an undamaged speeder parked nearby; Obi-Wan commandeered it.

"There are people inside here, Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon bellowed.

"There are people all over this city," rejoined the apprentice. "We're only two; we have to get out as many people as we possibly can! The ones who can still make it, and _then_ we'll search for survivors."

"Very well," said Qui-Gon, abandoning his task and clambering onto the speeder. Obi-Wan leapt on behind him and they blew their way through the shattering city.

"We'll need to find a place where there's a map and a communications that's actually working," yelled Obi-Wan.

"I think this might fit the bill," said Qui-Gon, and steered the speeder into a still-standing building but with windows blown out. The blinking and flickering display above the doorway read _Customs and Administrations_ in both Aurebesh and the Naboo Futhark. As they entered, a blue-and-white astromech droid wheeled up to meet them, whirring and beeping all the while.

"You, droid," snapped Obi-Wan, "Can you find hijack all public announcements in the city and give us a full and detailed map?"

The droid whirred in response. Qui-Gon shot a quizzical look at his apprentice.

"He says yes," approximated Obi-Wan, glancing at the viewpad on the droid's middle.

"Then let's get to it," said Qui-Gon.

In the space of five minutes they had, in total, about half of the city online in different patches, as well as a traditional map of the city. It was impossible, though, to get a working, real-time hologram up, so they didn't know the extent of the damage.

"R2," instructed Qui-Gon, "Are there any droids about which are capable of shifting rubble? Or at least rigging up communication wires?"

R2 whirred in the negative for the former and the positive for the latter.

"Very well," said Qui-Gon. "Help me put the following instructions on loop, then we shall requisition all the droids we can to ensure that communications and roads are clear to reach as many people as possible.

He flicked up the map and surveyed it with a critical eye. Tattan had a population of 1.2 million, and was divided up into seven districts. Six districts around a centre, each one with a quota of hospices, schools, galleries and shrines.

"People of Tattan, this is Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn of the Catheran Jedi Order. I ask you to evacuate the city, repeat, to evacuate. Each person still able should head to their local hospice to assist in that hospital's move out, with patients, staff, and medical equipment _et al_. Those in the Spaceport should leave and group by the Nabacé Hotel at Karama Lake. Those in Korujha should head to Jimantha's Temple; those in Thaghol should head to Talibarro Village by the Teasvila Meander . . ."

Qui-Gon finished his evacuation instructions, put the recording on loop, and ran to assist Obi-Wan's efforts to jury-rig communications with the rest of the city.

"Two thirds of the city online, Master," he shouted, literally speeding back into the building. "We've got droids out all over the city laying wires here, there, and everywhere - and there's a lot of destruction through the Spaceport, Koruhja, Tattan Central and Utuara Districts."

"The Droids can be left to their own devices," decided Qui-Gon.

"But Master, are you sure?"

"We can shift rubble and they can't. Leave them to their jobs. We'll take R2 with us, though. We may have need of an astromech."

They fitted the droid into the back of their stolen commandeered speeder, and set off for Utuara Junction.

Two hours later, they were in the process of using the Force to lift huge blocks of concrete and stone out of a hospice entrance when they uncovered a two-way independent comlink pair and a speeder bike.

"Soon as we finished with this, Apprentice," called Qui-Gon, "We should split up; we'll cover more ground that way. We can keep in contact."

"Alright, Master," called Obi-Wan.

They finished scraping rubble away from the hospice doors and burst in. R2-D2 trailed behind them and rigged up a wire to the loudspeaker. Qui-Gon's evacuation instructions began to blare out over loudspeaker, and the two Jedi rushed in. A dark-skinned female doctor rushed to greet them.

"We are Jedi, Madam," said Qui-Gon, "Here to offer our services to help evacuate this hospice and set up outside the city."

—-

Eight hours later, after a lot of back-and-forth trips followed by commandeering all of the pitifully small resources at their disposal to get a working shelter up for the night and treat everyone's injuries.

"Obi-Wan," called Qui-Gon, "Take your speeder and search the ruins for survivors. Take the astromech unit with you, you might need it for repairs. I'll finish up here and head out to the other camps to see if they need any help."

"Yes, Master," said Obi-Wan. The droid had evidently already heard, because he used a pair of booster rockets to get into the speeder as Obi-Wan climbed in, and they sped back off to Tattan.

There were buildings still standing in Tattan, and pockets where destruction was a lot less marked, but even all of the standing buildings had their windows blown out and masses of exposed, sparking wires lay everywhere. Obi-Wan put the astromech on the task of tidying up machines and wires, whilst he started clearing out doors and streets from rubble using the Force. He was shifting a tall stone pillar away from the top of a pile or rubble when he heard the sound of marching feet, and the Force warned him to be careful. He set the pillar down as quietly as he could, then headed for the empty street outside - and his mouth hung open in shock. There were scores of battle droids marching up the street.

The incongruity of _battle droids_ and _Naboo_ in the same place was mind-boggling. It was even more incongruous, say, than battle droids and _Alderaan_. At least Alderaan actually had strategic value to people. Naboo . . . didn't.

Obi-Wan Kenobi hadn't really had time to think about things much since the bombs started falling - he had been more than just a bit busy - but just now it suddenly struck him that something was very wrong. Why would anybody want to invade Naboo? It wasn't as though much was going to be gained by it; Naboo was an un-integrated backwater with a tiny population and very few natural sources that couldn't be had elsewhere.

"Excuse me," he said, coming out to face the battle droids, and facing them in their tracks, "But could you tell me who's controlling you, please?"

"We are Trade Federation Droids, roger," said one.

"We are meant to imprison locals, roger," said the droid next to it. Obi-Wan wasn't having that, so he ran for it, and used his lightsaber to block the stun bolts.

"Jedi on target list, roger," screamed one droid, and they gave chase in earnest. And as Obi-Wan Kenobi went fleeing and charging through the streets and rubble of Tattan Spaceport with two batteries of battle droids on his tail, a ridiculously trivial thought kept running through his head.

 _This is most certainly not according to plan._

—-

"Master?" his apprentice's voice crackled across the comlink, harsh and panicked all.

"Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan, are you alright?" Qui-Gob could not keep the concern out of his voice.

"Master, there are battle droids all throughout the city. They're rounding up survivors and taking them to camps, and they've got Jedi on their kill list. I've only just escaped."

"Apprentice. Get yourself out of there; go straight to Theed, explain what you've seen, and offer our services. I'll stay with the refugees."

"Yes, Master. Over and out."

—-

Obi-Wan slipped back to his speeder, peripherally noticing that the R2-D2 unit was already on it. the droid, he thought to himself, either had a loose wire or highly superior programming. And with that thought, he powered his way out of Tattan Spaceport.

Tattan was perhaps a thousand or so kilometres from Theed, and was its nearest metropolis. A mountain range cut across the most direct route between the two cities, so the most efficient route was to circumvent the mountains until one hit the River Solleu, then head upstream through the forests and swamps up to the Great Grass Plains and the foothills of the Theed Mountains. It was this route that Obi-Wan Kenobi took.


	4. A Holocall

**Chapter 3. A Holocall**

"My Lord Viceroy," said Rune Haako, Lord Master Settlement Officer of the Trade Federation. "The transmission from Lord Sidious is commencing."

Both Neimoidians moved over from the viewport over the planet of Naboo to the holoprojector, robes and the lappets of their hats swaying.

"My Lord Sidious," said Gunray silkily, when the hooded image flickered into view. "We have contained the Naboo and have detained two members of the Cogency."

"Stantabes and Amidala, I would assume?" The voice of the figure on the holoprojector was deep and raspy.

"Yes. As for Verana, she is seriously ill and may not live long."

"I see," said the hooded figure. "We must have Stantabes hand over sovereignty to you by means of a treaty, as discussed. Have Verana die, and of natural causes. I shall be sending my agent to _persuade_ the King to sign forthwith. Ensure that you let him break in to the King's holding place. Once Stantabes has put his name to the treaty, Amidala will follow.

"I understand, my lord. Is there to be anything else?"

"Have the King placed in solitary confinement, and ensure that he believes the passage of time to be longer than it has. It will make controlling him much easier."

"And you are keeping to your promise to fund Senator Teem's election campaign?"

"Most assuredly, Lord Viceroy."

"Until our next conversation then," said Gunray, and cut the connection.

"If proceedings were not underway," said Haako, "I would have never made this deal."

Such forthrightness was unusual in a Neimoidian, but he had always felt that there was a time for honesty and a time for duplicity in his line of work. You had to maintain a veneer of civility, at least. And he didn't like this whole venture, for any number of reasons.

For one, they didn't know who Lord Sidious was. He had claimed to be the head of a corporation (which one, Haako wondered sourly?), who was opposed to Senator Palpatine's campaign for increased taxes on wealthy citizens and legal personalities to fund an enlarged peacekeeping force that would tame the Outer Rim, who did not want his identity compromised.

Which meant that Lord Sidious's real persona - because surely Sidious was an alias - could quite easily run to the Senate and spill the dirt on the Trade Federation whenever he liked, whereas if Sidious chose to back out of the deal, he would be untouchable, ergo, this was an unequal partnership with the Trade Federation at a distinct disadvantage. He had brought up his misgivings with Gunray, of course, but the Lord Viceroy had pointed out that every venture had some risk, and that a small scandal would never finish off a Corporation as large and as powerful and as deeply integrated into the fabric of Galactic society as theirs.

"It could finish us personally," Haako had pointed out.

"It could increase our profits and influence," Gunray had answered, "We will have revenge on Palpatine, and if we have sovereignty over his home planet we can demote and discredit him." Haako had pointed out that it might even make Palpatine's election campaign easier, to which Gunray had said that they could nationalise his assets, and added that Sidious was promoting the Lord Senator Teem's campaign as well.

There were times, thought Haako wryly, when he wished that one so unstable as Gunray was not in charge of the Trade Federation - but then, his own power would be somewhat compromised. It was easier to direct from the sidelines and have another in the public eye by far, and as much of an idiot savant that Gunray could be, he made a useful front.

"We do not even know what motivates him," he told the Viceroy, returning his thoughts to the present.

"Lord Sidious wishes to prevent Senator Palpatine from passing any more legislation that could damage our interests. We are both aware, Lord Master Settlement Officer, that once we are in charge of Naboo, that we can demote him from his position in the Senate. We will come away with a vast array of natural resources and space, revenge on the Senator, and a stop to Lord Senator Palpatine's crusade for centralisation and increased taxes before he has a chance at a Chancellorship that will be ruinous for our enterprises."

Several hours later, Rune Haako put through a holocall of his own. He kept up contact with a number of some of Galactic society's fringe-dwellers, and this call was directed to one of them.

"Fett here," said the Mandalorian who appeared on the projector, wreathed in blue.

"I have a mission for you on Naboo," said Haako, and outlined his proposal.

"Good," said Fett once he'd finished. "I'll do it."


	5. The Gungan

**Chapter 4. The Gungan**

The swamp, as always, was full of life. The sun was warm; the water cool, and the dappled shade of the trees made the place almost a delight to hunt in. Jarjar Binks adjusted the fishnet on his back and adjusted his grip on his spear. It was Grandfather's birthday tomorrow; and Jarjar would fill his net with fish and eels if it killed him. They were Grandfather's favourite, and since the old Gungan's teeth were loose and blunt, it was easier for him to eat cooked fish than to get down hard insects or meat or even watery, cressy plants. It would be, Jarjar thought, a nice surprise.

He lifted an ear. The sounds of the forest around him were mainly normal; the sounds of fish and eels splashing beneath the water; the stirring of the still lakes in the wind and the bubble of the water that flowed; the wind flapping and stirring through the leaves; the formless sound of animals scurrying through the forests; the creaking of bark and the swish of birds' wings.

And over it, through it, hurting it, the sound of a human engine, perhaps two miles away. Jarjar could hear another human engine; not so intrusive and not nearly so harmful, this time, but still foreign to the forests and the swamps that he called home. There was no need to run from the latter engine, but all the instincts told him, concerning the first engine, that he should run. He pulled his fishnet closer to his loins and slipped into the water with nary a splash, and then he slipped away through the waters with only his head above the surface. Terror and dread filled his heart and chest at the sound of the engine; and now it was joined by the sounds of marching feet trampling through his world, _hurting_ it . . .

Not just that. Those marching feet matched up predominantly with engines, more of them, evil engines. The terror and the pain of the forest and the sound of so many marching feet that crushed all in their way were an assault on Jarjar's senses and mind, and all he could think of was the desperate need to get out, to get away from it all and _oh how it hurt and oh how they were trampling the forest until not even the forest itself could feel it anymore . . ._

Jarjar passed the roots of the Old Teaka Tree, and suddenly realised that the other engine - the kindly one - was much closer. He took shelter in the water beneath the tree's roots and submerged himself until only his eyes and nostrils were above the surface.

The kindly engine came into view, and on it rode a creature that Jarjar could tell was alive, by it's high-pitched whirring cries, but which sounded similar to an engine, but one which could never hurt . . . and a human.

Jarjar had never yet met a human, in all of his eighteen years. He had heard of them, of course; they all had. Humans, who came from the skies and lived in the mountains; who made engines to hurt the forests and who thought themselves wiser and better than the Gungans. Humans, who had long ago driven them from their walkways and viewed the Gungan habits with suspicion.

And then the tramping engines came into view, and Jarjar knew, somehow, that they were threatening the human. And with something that came not from reason, Jarjar leapt from his hiding place with a high-pitched keen.

He struck out at the engine with the butt of his spear, knocking it to the ground, then thrust the point of the spear through its neck. The human pulled out a singing beam of light, and cut his way through another engine that shot light at him, and deflected their deathlights back at them with his own . . .

Jarjar kicked down another engine, struck another to the side with the butt of his spear. The human was making short work of three other engines at once, but there was still one further away . . .

Jarjar threw his spear. The engine dropped; Jarjar leapt over on powerful legs and retrieved his weapon. Then he turned to face the human, who had just taken down the last engine. The human wiped sweat from his brow, then stared at Jarjar in unabashed shock. He said something in the human tongue; Jarjar knew enough of it to know that the human was stating that Jarjar had saved his life.

"Yousa was in bit doodoo," Jarjar explained. That was all there was too it, really. If another was in need, help them.

"You could have been killed," said the human.

"Well, mesa not dead yet," replied Jarjar, "But mesa thinks yousa hurtin'. Mesa seein' big burn on yousa leg dar." He walked over and placed his hand on it gently.

"Mesa goin' ta treat dat," he said. "Mesa goin' to make fire, den mesa will boil water and Kharsharya root . . ."

"It's alright, I'll treat it," said the human, heading back to his engine and his companion. Jar jar followed him, and laid a hand on the human's companion. It whirred in happiness, and Jarjar felt an immediate affinity for the being.

"Yousa be cleanin' the forest," he told the human. "Theysa evil, comin' here an' hurtin' it. Theysa here to harm da forest, till it had no life left."

"Is that what you think?" asked the human, cleaning his leg with some of his own supplies, and then, "I'm headed to Theed."

"Human place?"

"Yes. The capital city."

"Humans have biiiiiiig place at top of the river. Mesa can show you da way if you don't be knowin' it. Yousa be savin' my life."

"I know the way."

"Yousa do not be knowin' the forest. Mesa gonna take fish home to Grandfather, then mesa be helpin' you."

"What's your name?"

"Mesa Jarjar. Jarjar Binks. What bein' yousa name?"

For the first time, the human smiled, and stretched out his hand to Jarjar.

"I am Obi-Wan Kenobi."

—-

Obi-Wan Kenobi was not like some Jedi. Some Jedi seemed in harmony with the natural world wherever they went, but Obi-Wan had never given their skills much thought.

He appreciated their skills a lot more now, because trying to navigate through a swamp on a speeder with a droid in the back whilst following a long-eared alien who seemed dead-set on traversing as many bodies of water as he could was turning into a nightmare. Insects came biting at him; his robes and feet were soaking and squelching.

"Jarjar," he called, "Can we not keep going over streams and stagnant ponds? It's bad for the speeder."

Jarjar immediately looked chastened.

"Mesa not knowin' a friendly engine be havin' trouble wid water," he said. "Mesa likin' water. Mesa likin' the music under water. Mesa likin' how water bein' on mesa ears and skin. Mesa not knowin' others bein' different."

He turned away, looking subdued, and was careful to lope around on land after that, or at least over the decomposing messes and tree roots that passed for land.

It took almost an hour in total, by Obi-Wan's chrono, but Jarjar stopped by a cluster of trees. Their roots were more deeply hidden and seemed more embedded in the earth; there were plants growing right next to the tree's roots. Then Jarjar ducked down through an opening, and Obi-Wan saw a hollow space under those same roots, and he realised that it was Jarjar's home.

There was a shriek from inside - presumably someone jabbering away in Gungan - and then another Gungan swam out from under the tree and leapt up onto the roof of its house. Its face was much more tapered and its eyes more wide-set. It wore a red, carved wooden torc around its neck, and Obi-Wan guessed it was a female.

"Obi, disa mesa Mama," explained Jarjar. "Shesa wantin' to be thankin' yousa for savin' mesa. An' shoes be sayin' dat mesa can be showin' yousa to Theed, but yousa best bein' takin' good care of mesa, 'cause mesa bein' de eldest kid."

Obi-Wan bowed. "Greetings, Madam Binks," he said. Jarjar said something to his mother, presumably explaining what Obi-Wan had said. She fussed over her son and said something in return.

"Mesa Mama sayin', dat humans bein' reeeealllly nasty to Gungans sometimes. Shesa sayin' dat yousa gotta be lookin' after mesa."

"I will," said Obi-Wan honestly. If his master was here, he thought, he'd no doubt be admonishing him to find more empathy and compassion with this admittedly strange creatures, whose ways he did not know.

There was a splash, and five other Jungians entered the water. Jar jar leapt back down with a shriek and began to splash and hug all of them. Obi-Wan got even more wet than he already was.

Jarjar's mother kissed her son, and then he hopped up the bank and vaulted into Obi-Wan's speeder with an almighty crash. The water from his clothes flicked all over Obi-Wan.

—-

Jarjar sat in the engine and headed inland; he could tell where that was by the smell of the trees. When the wind blew from the sea it took the briny air with it and the smells and lichens on the solid wooden tree-trunks were different in colour and scent. He needed to find the river, he knew, which seemed to lie all through this swamp; so he followed the sound of running water and headed towards it, then followed the tracks upstream.

His ears, when they pricked, kept bumping the human next to him. Jarjar felt terrible.

He knew the swamp well enough to hear the booming call of the Borro Bird recede and the sounds of the twittering of the Manan Daru birds go stronger; they would be out of this swamp in some hours.

"We need to get to Theed with all haste, Jarjar. Can we keep going through the night?"

"Mesa findin' dat no problem, Obi," said Jarjar. "Mesa goin' by da sound of da water and da smell of da trees."

Darkness fell, and the night was lit up by the dancing fireflies in the trees. Jarjar whipped out his tongue and snapped them up. Obi-Wan looked at him distastefully, and Jarjar had to wonder whether or not fireflies were a delicacy among humans.

Probably not.

He followed the sound of the river and followed it upstream. Every so often they passed through the clearings and half-grown over clearings that had probably once been Gungan bothies before the trees had died and the roofs withered with them; and after several hours, Jarjar could tell by the smell of the air that they were outside the swamp.

He'd only been in this part of the forest a few times before, and none recently.

 _In an environment that you don't know,_ Mama had told him so often, _You've got to be careful, Jarjar. Your curiosity will get you in trouble someday. Learn to respect your environment. Learn to understand what's around you. You've always got your head in the treetops._

In this neck of the woods he did not know the dangers, so all he could do was try to avoid them. Stay where the birds sing and the crickets call. Listen for feet that trample, creatures that slither, and the ones that move in the water and make no noise at all.

They flashed by through clearings where Jarjar could see the stars overhead, and he thought he'd never seen anything so beautiful. They were Shiraya's kin, those stars, born to make life among them, of which Jarjar and all his kin and home systems were a part of, both tiny and integral.

He saw those stars seldom, but Grandfather had taught him how to navigate by them, long ago.

 _"_ _It's what the coastal fishers do, when they go out on overnight fishing. It's what the islanders and deep-sea fishers do, when they swim out at the surface of the sea, and when they ride its waves in their breaking rafts and their coracles. It's what the shaak herders of old used to do, in days long gone. Learn the ways, Jarjar, both of the swamp below and the stars above. They're both your birthright, and if you know their ways you can always return to Gungada Gungabia,"_ he'd said.

The col crawfish constellation was glowing brightly, and Jarjar turned his back on its tail to get to the Great Grass Plains and to Theed. The sound of the engine, although friendly, was slightly intrusive, and to keep his senses trained on the stars and the river and simultaneously listen and scent for danger was tiring.

—-

It was perhaps two hours before dawn that it happened. Jarjar caught the scent of a Lorgaz, and - very stupidly, in retrospect - dipped an ear into the water to see if he could hear the almost-silent thrash of the creature's tail.

He was lucky enough to hear the creature rushing up through the water to get him, and he shrieked and jolted out of the water. He heard the Lorgaz's teeth snap, and promptly rolled into Artoo. The creature squealed and whirred with shock, hovered above the water's surface like a firefly, then flew back to their engine. Obi-Wan yelled in shock and terror, then broke out his lightsword. And not a moment too soon, because the Lorgaz rolled over, seized the engine in his teeth, crushed it and flipped. Jar jar and Obi-Wan were catapulted into the water, and Jarjar kicked for the surface. Artoo was already screaming in dismay and flying towards the distant bank whilst sending lightningfire into the water.

"Yousa stop that," squawked Jarjar. "Yousa distractin' mesa!" And he dived back down to search for Obi-Wan. It wasn't as though humans could breathe through their skin.

Obi-Wan was bloodied and flailing in the water, and was trying to pierce the Lorgaz with his lightsword. Then the Lorgaz saw Jarjar.

 _Big Doodoo this time._

The Lorgaz lunged, and Jarjar turned sharply. Then, to his horror, he felt the Lorgaz's teeth around his leg, scoring down towards his foot. He kicked twice to no avail, and he could tell by the lightsword's swinging that it was landing blows on the Lorgaz, but it seemed to be ineffectual and _Grandfather will be so sad if I die and so will Mama and Papa and Raijir and Tahi and Miljer and what's that other noise it sounds like a gooberfish . . ._

The Lorgaz released its hold on Jarjar suddenly, and he yanked his leg out and turned to look for Obi-Wan. He kicked over to him, feeling the stiffness and pain already setting into his leg, grabbed the human, and pulled him to the surface. It was a long way to the nearest bank, with the river as wide as it was, and the human in his arms and his own leg on cold fire.

He swam across to the bank anyway, and dragged Obi-Wan out of the river. There was blood on the human's chest, red-coloured and hot.

"Yousa bein' OK?"

"Yes. Yes, what was that?"

"Dat bein' a Lorgaz. But dere's always bein' a biiiiiigger gooberfish," explained Jarjar. Obi-Wan hefted out a chuckle which ended with a grimace.

"That's very true - ah! Where'd my comlink go?"

Comlink, Jarjar soon realised, was the human equivalent of the Gungan Callsong, only more private and between two individuals, instead of one Gungan communicating with all over great distances.

It was also evident that Obi-Wan was, like Jarjar, terrified and cold and in need of medical attention. Well, Jarjar didn't know much about human medicine, but he could make a fire. He'd made one, and then remembered he'd dropped his spear in the river. He realised, unpleasantly, he had no way off getting them food or game, at least not if Obi-Wan refused to eat insects.

So he licked the wounds in his leg to cleanse it from pathogens and to seal it from dirt; and then he went searching for Juba bark.

He found it, and weeping bark too, and returned to the fire. He filled the curved Juba bark with water, then hung it over the fire. The human looked none too good.

"How far is it to Theed?" he asked weakly.

"It bein' maybe a day onna back of Kaadu," Jarjar replied.

"What's - what's a Kaadu?" whispered Obi-Wan. He was shivering, which Jarjar took to be a bad sign. He put the weeping bark in the boiling water, and blew on the flames to increase their intensity.

"Yousa be drinkin' this," he explained, "And yousa not be havin' fever."

"But what's a Kaadu, Jarjar?"

"A Kaadu bein' what we bein' ridin' now," Jarjar explained, "When day be comin'."

He dug up a Kharsharya root - he could scent it out even from above ground - and boiled it into a paste to lay on both of their wounds. It would soothe the pain and would prevent infection and inflammation. He would stay with the human until they could find someone to heal his wounds.

—-

Jarjar spent the rest of the short night fashioning two saddles from lianas, leaves, deadwood, and his own sticky saliva which held everything together. Obi-Wan looked a bit worried at that last one.

Morning came, and Jarjar got to his feet and gave the Kaadu Callsong. He did this by closing his throat, so that it was one long tube opening out into his mouth, and blew through it, waving his vocal chords as he did so.

The high, mournful, haunting sound reverberated through the forest. Far, far away, Jarjar could hear the formless grazing sound of a herd, and then he heard the young ones turn in and run towards them. They thundered closer, disturbing the forest but not harming it as they went; and before long two Kaadu stood before them.

"Jarjar?" asked Obi-Wan. Jar jar changed his song to a high warble, then went up to the Kaadu. In turn, he laid his hand on either sides of their necks, a handspan behind their skulls. Then he rubbed the front of his face against their foreheads; they began to shift the hips, stomp and nod their heads in pleasure. Jarjar mirrored their actions, then bent and twisted around. The animals copied him. So he stroked the one he was about to saddle up, and put the makeshift saddle onto it.

"Yousa gonna be flyin' here?" he asked Artoo. Artoo flew up onto the saddle, and Obi-Wan came up to help Jarjar tie Artoo down onto the saddle properly. Then Jarjar tied a long liana around the Kaadu's mouth and head, took hold of the end, and mounted up onto the neck of the other Kaadu.

"Yousa be ridin' behind mesa," he instructed Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan scrambled up behind him, wincing with pain at the wounds in his chest. Jarjar warbled out a few extra notes, then turned the Kaadu's heads in the direction upriver and away from the rising sun.

They lumbered off, and their gaits smoothed out and turned into a smooth, bipedal lope.

The sun was halfway in the sky when they crested the Sarvanayim Hills, and it was an hour past noon when they broke out onto the Great Grass Plains. It was so open as to let all the sounds travel, but they seemed to die so quickly, it was to a Gungan almost like going blind. But the sounds of the water and the waving grasses and the hum of the city and thud of Kaadu feet still filled Jarjar's ears, and they kept him grounded. He could taste the air on his skin and on his nostrils, though, and that worried him. There were engines near; harmful ones, and the smell of burning was wafting down from the waterfall. It gagged Jarjar and scraped his mind raw. His nerves were on fire and a-jitter with the feel and the smell of destruction, and he began to shiver violently. The Kaadu both came screeching to a halt, and it was only by Uala's help that all three of them stayed mounted.

"Oh no," said Obi-Wan, simultaneously looking up at the city on the clifftop and wincing from the wounds in his chest. Jarjar could smell the human's pain.

"Wesa . . . wesa gonna be havin' to be climbin' da cliff," said Jarjar.

"Can you do that?"

"Of course mesa can do dat! Mesa Granddad bein' a cliff-dweller when hesa bein' young!"

"Well," said Obi-Wan, "When we get there, I'm going to poach a medkit so I can treat myself properly. And then I'm going to see the royals."

"Obi? Are the royals . . . bein' da human bosses?"

"Yes, they . . ."

"No! Mesa canna go dere! Mesa be bein' kidnapped by theysa!"

"I'm a Jedi, Jarjar, and I'll tell them not to."  
"A Jedi? But Jedi bein' servants of human bosses . . ."

"We're advisors to bosses, Jarjar, not servants. If we tell them not to do something, they're supposed to listen."

"Mesa need to get back to Mama!" said Jarjar. She would be terrified if he didn't. He didn't want her to be terrified. He didn't want Papa to worry and search for him, because Papa would be ranging through the swamps calling and singing for him for days. He didn't want Grandfather to grieve. He was such an old Gungan, it would destroy him.

"And I'll make sure you will," said Obi-Wan. "You can always turn back now, if you want, but if you come with me I can ask the government to compensate you for time lost."

"Theysa will?"

"Probably. At the very least, I could compensate you with the Jedi's money if we got to a city."

"Wesa goin' up dat cliff, den," agreed Jarjar, and nudged the Kaadu forward. Perhaps the compensation could be given to Auntie Peppi; she was always in need of something . . .

The smell of smoke was still putting him on edge.

They parked the Kaadu at the bottom of the cliff, then started climbing, which is to say Jarjar and Obi-Wan climbed and Artoo flew from rock to rock.

By the time they reached the top, all three of them were soaked with mist and spray from the waterfall. The water tasted clean on his skin, thankfully, so his nerves were no more raw at the top of the cliff than they had been at the bottom.

Human and Gungan took a flying leap onto the pavement above the waterfall, and Obi-Wan grabbed Jarjar and pulled him behind a tall stone building.

Jarjar cocked his ear.

"Mesa hearin' lots of ouchie engines," he said. "Yousa bein' OK?"

"I think I'll be fine, Jarjar."

"Mesa stayin' wid yousa until yousa bein' findin' a doctor," replied Jarjar. "Mesa knowin' de air bein' hurtin'. Mesa not wantin' to be leavin' yousa alone."

"Very well. Let's go find a medkit and then the Queen. R2, find a terminal and see if you can open a droid-traffic map."

"Livin' engines bein' called droids?" asked Jarjar.

"Yes, they're called droids," said Obi-Wan.

They came out of their hiding place and headed into the city.


	6. The Jedi and the Queen

**Chapter 5. The Jedi and the Queen**

The first thing that Obi-Wan Kenobi noticed was that Theed looked as though it had been bombed as thoroughly as Tattan. There was the acrid smell of smoke and rubble and scorched metal. Several buildings down this end of Theed were standing, but the river was clogged with rubble and wrecked waterspeeders, and further down the plaza Obi-Wan could see buildings blown to rubble, with all viewports blown out and roofs fallen in and stripped down to their skeletons. Some buildings had whole walls blown out of their sides, and their floors were sagging. The ground was covered with sparking wires, fallen stones, and broken furniture and old-fashioned glass (Obi-Wan was glad he'd been introduced to that particular hazard a few weeks ago in Eirtaévid).

"Jarjar," he said, "Watch out for the clear glass on the ground. Don't step on it, and for pity's sake, avoid the wires."

"Okie dokie," said the Gungan earnestly.

"If need be, can you navigate us through the surrounding countryside?"

"Mesa thinkin' so. Mesa hearin' an' smellin' good, but mesa not never bein' in dis place."

Obi-Wan nodded. He was clear-headed and lucid, which was a good thing, and, all things considered, gave him a better edge than he had a right to. But the wounds in his chest were smarting and stinging badly, and the pain was frazzling his nerves terribly. _Focus_ , he thought to himself, and hoped that his master wouldn't try to comm him any time soon. If he did, he'd hear the sound of water at best, and no master _liked_ to lose their apprentice like that. The droid came over, whirring incessantly, and brought up a holomap of the city, or at least, presumably, what the city had looked like before it had been bombed.

For the first time since the Gungan had rescued him - and Obi-Wan privately considered that to be not so lucky at all, considering how difficult the Gungan was to deal with - Obi-Wan felt he was in luck. The Royal Palace was near; in walking distance, if they couldn't find a speeder.

His next thought was that he had to comm his master. The trouble was that he'd lost his comlink in the river, and he'd forgotten the frequency anyway. Even if he found some kind of terminal, he would be unable to call.

Obi-Wan turned his face toward the ruined city with a sigh. He would try his luck at the Palace first; if that proved fruitless, there was really nothing to do but get hold of a medkit for himself and the Gungan from somewhere and then help relief efforts here.

He wondered what he would do in the long term. Try to contact his master? Go to the Senate for help?

 _Focus on the present_ , he told himself. It's what your master would tell you. So he took a deep breath, flicked his robes straight, more for the sake of his own confidence than anything else, and headed in the direction of the royal palace.

—-

Twenty minutes later, and Obi-Wan was to find that his brief spate of luck had lasted approximately that long. The streets were wide and emptied of people, but rubble was covering the ground. Obi-Wan, Jarjar, and the astromech picked their way over it as fast as they could with the Gungan's bad leg and Obi-Wan's bad chest. The Gungan was looking about, evidently terrified, and he was shaking and shuddering, disturbing all manner of debris about and screaming each time he touched something,or even just at random intervals.

"Jarjar," said Obi-Wan irritably, "Can you just be quiet?"

A shudder ran through the Gungan's body. He was hunching in on himself, looking very small and very vulnerable. A part of Obi-Wan immediately felt bad for snapping.

"Mesa sorry," said the Gungan, even more high-pitched than he was usually, and sounding extremely miserable.

"We need to be discreet," said Obi-Wan. "We're going to the Palace and we don't know what state it's in. When we turn the next corner, we'll do so slowly. We'll stay next to the wall over there and check around. Come on, R2."

Obi-Wan stepped forward, came close to the wall, and walked up to it. The Droid and the Gungan followed. Obi-Wan edged his way down the wall to the corner, that led out onto the plaza that opened in front of the Palace, and looked round.

Nothing there. He glanced the other way, away from the Palace.

There was a flight of steps not too far from him leading down to the Solleu River, where a hoverbarge sat waiting. Sweeping down the steps away from him, with all of the dignity a captive woman could muster, was a young woman in an elaborate black gown, a man in a long scarlet robe over a creamy, knee-length tunic and loose breeches of the same colour and a turban, followed by a cadre of men and women in official and expensive-looking robes and uniforms. They were surrounded by battle droids who were evidently escorting them down to the barge, accompanied by a Neimoidian in a helmet and armor.

Oh, no.

Obi-Wan pulled out his sound amplifier, switched it on, and pointed it in the direction of the unfortunate captives.

"Your Majesties," said a Neimodian accent through the sound amplifier, "The Viceroy will meet with you at his convenience only. He is a very busy being."

"We demand," said a young woman's voice, "To speak with the Viceroy only. Nothing will be signed until we do."

"At the convenience of the Viceroy only, Your Majesties," said the Neimoidian.

"You have said that many times, sir," said a man's voice with the accent that the cultured Naboo seemed to favour. "But tell me, if the Viceroy has time enough to strafe our planet and to threaten us, to have us detained until all his actions are declared legal by us, then why has he not time enough to give us the time of the day? Or is he a coward?"

"All the Naboo are cowards," said the Neimoidian. "They hide here on their planet and are too frightened to venture out into the great wide Galaxy. They hide from progress because of the pain it will bring them. They hide in their paintings and sculptures and art, and refuse to see reality in its face. No wonder they had the Jedi in to police them before they invited us. The Jedi are as spineless and blind as they are."

Obi-Wan had heard enough. The royals had been captured; the Palace was in all likelihood under occupation. He would find a medkit for himself and the Gungan, patch them up, and get the alien - who, admittedly, knew his way around a forest - to help him to the nearest refugee camp before sending him off home. He turned around and headed back down the street the way he had come.

"Obi? Obi? What yousa doin', Obi?"

"I think the Droids have invaded the Palace, Jarjar," said Obi-Wan. "We can't go see the royals now. So I'm going to find a medkit, get the two of us treated, and then we can find where the refugees have gone so that we can help them. And then you can go home."

There was a hospital he'd seen on the map nearby. He'd start there.

—-

The hospital was relatively undamaged, but completely empty of people and droids. Obi-Wan put the droid to work on opening the store cupboards for medkits, and then sat down on an empty hospital bed whilst he and the Gungan treated themselves. The astromech tootled in shortly after, and the Gungan laid a hand on the assortment's dome and began singing to it.

Obi-Wan wondered at what manner of life-form he'd picked up. Then he found a bag and began sweeping medical supplies into it. He picked up another - if he was going to go looking for refugees then he would need as much medicine as he could - before the Gungan suddenly stopped singing and cocked one of his huge ears.

"Theysa comin'", he whispered. Obi-Wan froze for a moment before turning round. _Who might it be?_

"Stay here," he whispered to the Gungan, "And stay with the droid and the supplies."

Obi-Wan edged his way around the open door and into the corridor to do some reconnaissance, unlit lightsaber held aloft as he did so. Down the corridor . . . he could hear rustling and footsteps, and it didn't sound like droids . . .

He glanced behind him. Then a hand grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him down into the corner. It was a young woman in a hooded orange gown, with a pretty, girlish face.

"Who are you?" she whispered. "I'm one of the Daughter Queen's handmaidens. The Queen's been captured."

A royal servant, then. She could help him.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, Apprentice Jedi Knight of the Catheran Order," said Obi-Wan by way of introduction.

" _Dhanyasvarva_ ," murmured the girl, before shouting over in Basic. "Padme, our prayers were answered! There's a Jedi here!"

Two more handmaidens swerved around the corner, both in the hooded orange robes.

"Master Jedi," said one of them. She had a little girl's voice, but her tone was confident and strong. "Our Queens and King have been taken into custody by the Trade Federation, but we know their policies and intentions regarding surrender. And we ask you, Master Jedi, to help us."

"I'm no Master. I'm an Apprentice who's lost his Master and is out of his depth."

"Could you contact other Jedi?"

"With what?"

The girl pursed her lips. "You're a Jedi," she said. "There must be something you can do, some ideas you can contribute!"

"Mistress Handmaiden, there's very little I can offer beyond organisational support and personal protection."

"This planet needs help!" cried the girl. "We cannot fight the Trade Federation off alone! And I hate to think what will happen to this world if . . . if . . ."

"What will happen?"

" _Capitalism,_ " whispered the girl, as if it was the Galaxy's greatest evil.

"Well," said Obi-Wan, thinking in double-time, "I think that the Catheran Jedi Sector Headquarters are on Chommell Major. If you could get there in person, you could make a case for help."

"How? The only spaceport we have is Tattan - "

There was a sudden whirring and beeping. All four humans turned to see the astromech rolling up to them, beeping and whistling. Jarjar was rushing behind it, looking terribly worried.

The girl knelt down to the droid to listen to its whirring.

"He's suggesting that we find a transport off Naboo somehow, and he s-"

"Padmé?" asked the girl who had grabbed Obi-Wan.

"He says that we should hide out in a Federation Transport and disembark at the nearest available planet, whereupon . . . whereupon we would go the Senatorial Embassy and ask for help there."

"I thought we were going to the Jedi for help," pointed out the third handmaiden.

"There's actually something that I _can_ help you with," said Obi-Wan. "Once we get off this planet, I can go to a bank and withdraw money in the name of the Jedi to cover the costs of our transport to Chommell Major. To Coruscant, even. But you've got to remember, we need to get off this planet first. And I'm guessing that they'll have a lot more ships coming in than going out."

The droid beeped again.

"He says that he can hack into the central computers to get flight information," said Padmé.

"Wassa happenin'?" squawked Jarjar. The three girls looked his way and two of them shied away, but Padmé stepped forward.

"Our planet has been invaded," she said. "We're trying to get help from off planet to fight the invasion off."

"Yousa bein' OK?"

"I'm alright, but the Queen isn't."

Jarjar didn't seem to be listening. He was looking under her hood, and at the faces of the other girls.

"Yousa goin' gettin' help alone?"

"If the Jedi agrees to come with us we will not be alone."

"How _old_ yousa bein'?"

"I'm fourteen."

Jarjar's mouth jumped open in shock, and his ears stood on end. The three girls shrank back in fear.

"Yousa fourteen and yousa fightin'?" he whispered. He sounded horrified. "Yousa be goin' into danger, and yousa bein' _children_ . . ." he turned to look at Obi-Wan. "Obi," he said, "Dink you mesa ought be helpin' dem, or goin' back to Mama?"

"Helping others," said Obi-Wan on principle. He never thought to consider that Jarjar was thinking of his mother's wellbeing. He _did_ think, immediately afterwards, that he was going to have an obnoxious, scared teenage savage to drag around the galaxy.

"Theysa engines bein' hurtin' da forest?"

"Yes," said the girl.

"Yousa stoppin' them?"

"Not on our own, but we're going to ask for help."

"Then mesa helpin' yousa! Mesa bein' onny eighteen, but if _yousa_ fightin' for _yousa_ forest, then _mesa_ fightin' for _mesa_ forest. Mesa fightin' for mesa family."

* * *

 _Dhanyasvarva_ : Thank the heavens


End file.
